


Smoky Kiss

by MichyStar



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Headcanon, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MichyStar/pseuds/MichyStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mizuki has been smoking for as long as Aoba has known him.</p><p>But he doesn't have an addiction. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoky Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a headcanon I sent to my friend who is in desperate need of more MizuAo. I know this isn't my best, but I hope it came out ok!

For as long as Aoba could remember, Mizuki smoked.

And, for as long as he could remember, Mizuki always denied that he was addicted.

Granted he didn’t smoke every single day, but when he did he gave into every craving and would smoke through a good pack or two and if asked Aoba could recall a few times he went through three or four.

Cheerful and friendly as he was, in the end Mizuki was human like everyone else. He had his good days and his bad days.

Just like how he always tried to get Aoba to join Dry Juice, Aoba would always try to get him to stop smoking. Whether it be by taking his cigarette, hiding or throwing out the packs, or even just telling him over and over to stop.

Aoba has known Mizuki for nearly 8 years now. 6 years were spent as best friends, the last two as lovers.

And Mizuki still can’t give up his damn cigarettes.

…

They collapsed on the bed at the same time.

Sweaty, sore, and bruised all over, it hurt to move. His legs still ached, the feeling of fingers gripping there not yet faded. Trying to regain a steady breathing pattern Aoba looked over to Mizuki, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth when he saw that his lover was feeling the same way.

Somehow he managed to roll over, draping an arm over Mizuki’s torso, resting his head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Even after some spur of the moment sex Aoba still found it within himself to be a tease.

"Feeling better now?”

Mizuki looked back at him, but instead of smiling he snorted, turning his head and reaching a hand out to search for something in the nightstand next to the bed. “Yeah. Thank you."

It was Aoba’s turn to snort, and even though his back ached from being pressed against the wall just moments ago, he managed another grin. Feeling relaxed, his eyes shut and he rested his cheek against Mizuki’s chest, content just listening to the other breath. “You don’t thank someone for sex. It’s strange."

When he got no reply he almost shrugged it off, until the all too familiar sound of metal being flicked open reached his ears. His relaxed feeling started to head south as the sound of rustling, clicking, and finally the smell of smoke was added. Groaning Aoba sat up, opening his eyes to glare at Mizuki who now was holding a lit cigarette between his lips.

"I thought you said you were feeling better, or was letting you fuck me against the hallway wall not enough?" He was angry, yes, but there was no real malice to his voice. Instead he felt tired—for much more than the obvious reasons.

Mizuki glanced up at him, taking the time to be at least somewhat of a gentleman and turning his head to the side to release a smoke filled breath before speaking. “I am feeling better. I just felt like it."

"Mizuki…"

"I don’t have a problem, Aoba."

Ah, the usual reply. How many times has he heard that phrase by now? I’m not addicted, Aoba. It’s only occasionally, Aoba. I’ve gone a few days without them, Aoba.

Any sort of content mood he was in before had now cracked, and Aoba did his best to keep calm as he tried to reason with Mizuki for whatever illionth time. “You’ve been saying that for almost 7 years now." When they were younger Mizuki didn’t have a problem, in fact he had been the one to tell Aoba to keep away from cigarettes. Yet it was only a year later he walked in on him, cigarette in one hand and a half empty pack in the other.

It wasn’t as if Mizuki hadn’t ever tried quitting before. When they first entered this relationship he had tried. Aoba didn’t know what he had expected. He’d seen addicts going through withdrawal on the streets before, and while Mizuki wasn’t going absolutely crazy he did come pretty close. Even the remaining members of Dry Juice knew it was best to avoid any confrontations with him.

Mood swings, irritability, endless twitching and mouth touching.

In the end he managed to go a week without smoking. For a guy who had a ‘bad day’ every other day, it was a good start.

Aoba glared now not at Mizuki but the thing in his hand. There had been countless studies that showed the negative side effects of smoking too much, and it had taken longer than he expected, but Mizuki was starting to show them. Just their little romp had left him out of breath—more so than usual. When they kissed, even if he had seen Mizuki brush his teeth, it always tasted faintly of smoke and ash.

It’s been almost three minutes and he’s yet to receive an answer. After allowing Mizuki to do all of this he was still obviously in a bad mood.

The real kicker is Aoba had no idea what for. He had started his day normally and went to work. It was only after he got off did he decide to stop by Mizuki’s house. At first he had thought it was lucky he ran into him while heading over, but it was clear the other was in a less than pleasant mood.

 That had led to Aoba being invited inside, which led to him then being pinned against the wall, and finally led him to the decision that if Mizuki needed to vent his frustrations, it might as well be in a way they both would enjoy.

Aoba waited until Mizuki turned away to let out another breath before leaning forward, snatching the cigarette from him. Trying to talk it out had gotten him no reaction, and honestly he was getting tired of that fact.

It worked, and Mizuki’s reaction was instantaneous. Sitting up he reached over and tried to take back the stolen stick. “Hey—Aoba!”

Ignoring the ache in his back and legs, Aoba quickly escaped to the other side of the bed, sitting back with a triumphant smile as he put the cigarette to his lips, trying to forget the fact just holding it close to his face was making his eyes water. He had a point to prove, and if he had to put up with this for a few seconds to prove it then so be it.

"If you’re not going to quit I might as well start." He was teasing of course—while in the past he may have done different types of drugs, it was different now. Parting his lips, Aoba copied the movements he’s seen Mizuki do his whole life. Putting the cigarette in his lips he held it steady with two fingers and sucked in a breath.

Only to cough it out a moment later.

Mizuki was on him in a flash, pulling the still lit cigarette away and rubbing his hands over Aoba’s back as he coughed. Just that small—medium sized small—inhale had been more than enough to make him feel sick. Honestly, how the hell did Mizuki keep smoking these things?

Every time Aoba felt like his lungs had recovered he was proven wrong, and after almost two straight minutes he stopped coughing.

Mizuki was still rubbing his back, asking him over and over if he was ok, chastising him in between for doing such a stupid thing.

His reason for taking the cigarette had been childish—Aoba knew that—but it had worked for the time being. “I got your attention." That fact made him a little happy.

"You didn’t have to go that far to get my attention. You know that. Seriously, are you ok?"

"I’m fine. And oh, so I always have your attention huh? If that’s the case why are you still smoking after I nearly died?"

"What are you talking about? I’m not smoking."

It was true. As they had talked both had begun to gravitate towards the other, but before he fully pressed against Mizuki Aoba stopped, the scent of smoke still prominent in the room. Could one cigarette really make that much of a stink?

Still caught up in their conversation beforehand, Mizuki brushed back Aoba’s hair, and when he spoke it was softer than before. “Haven’t we had this talk before? I love you Aoba, just because I smoke doesn’t mean…" Now he drifted off, only instead of looking away or at him Aoba saw Mizuki’s eyes widen.

"S-smoke…"

"Eh?"

"Aoba, smoke!" As if burned Mizuki pulled away from him and scrambled up. Angry that Mizuki had—literally this time—ran off in the middle of their conversation, Aoba turned to look for him when he felt his own eyes widen. Any previous anger was quickly replaced with panic as he took in the sight before him.

The curtains right next to the bed were on fire.

Crying out Aoba sprang up after Mizuki, nearly running into him in the hall. In his hands was a bowl of water, nowhere large enough to quench the fire now spanning the wall. Mind in a rush, Aoba nearly forgot what to do in a situation like this.

Most people in the Old Residents District got around by foot, but while the cops were corrupt one thing that remained the same--for the most part— was the fire station.

Which, if he remembered correctly, was nearly halfway across the district.

"Fuck!" Cradling the phone in one hand Aoba ran to the kitchen to grab a bowl just as Mizuki had. The department answered as he was filling it with water. He didn’t have to say much other than their address; if anything Mizuki’s loud cursing in the background and the sound of running around were proof enough that this wasn’t a hoax.

After hanging up Aoba ran back into the room, jumping back as it was nearly all flames now. On the ground were a few items Mizuki had managed to salvage. There wasn’t enough time to inspect them all, but one thing Aoba noticed right away was that none of the items included clothes.

…

Aoba tried his best to ignore the stares and whispers of the people around them. If asked he could say his face was red from the fire—not from the fact he and Mizuki were standing outside his house in nothing but overly large hoodies, the only other items on them being Aoba’s bag with Ren still inside and the things Mizuki had grabbed.

He wasn’t sure whether to be angry or grateful at the fact Mizuki kept the old Morphine jackets Virus and Trip had given him. For now he went with grateful. At least it saved them from having to go outside completely nude.

Any other problems had been taken care of beforehand. As the fire started to inch out of the bedroom they went to the kitchen, about to leave through the back when Aoba paused. In his panicked state he had forgotten the definition of priorities, and had spent a good minute wiping away any cum falling down his legs before actually exiting the house. Standing outside with his lover in front of a smoldering house in just a hoodie was one thing. Doing it with cum dripping out of him was another.

Mizuki stood quietly next to him, only responding when someone asked him a question.

Aoba watched as the final flame on Mizuki’s house was put out. One whole half of the house was black, the bedroom and front hallway area receiving the worst of the burns. Luckily their failure of an attempt to water down the flames did some help so that when the professionals arrived it wasn’t as big of a thing to deal with.

Either way, there was no way Mizuki would be able to stay here. Knowing him he’d probably stay at the bar. But… that idea didn’t sit well with Aoba.

Reaching over, Aoba gave Mizuki’s hoodie a small tug to get his attention. Once he had it he opened his mouth, an offer of staying with him and Tae about to come out when the chief firefighter came up to them.

"We found the source of the fire."

Moment forgotten—Aoba frowned and closed his mouth as soon as the other man spoke—Mizuki turned to the older man, face wearing an expression of exhaustion. “What was it?"

In all reality, they both knew what had caused it.

That still didn’t stop Mizuki from clenching his jaw when the man told them it looked like a lit cigarette had fallen on the floor next to the curtains, catching them on fire. Aoba looked at Mizuki again, and instead of tugging this time his fingers simply curled around the other’s sleeve.

As much as he wanted to rub it in Mizuki’s face, he couldn’t. Now wasn’t the right time to gloat about how he had been right and cigarettes only caused trouble. Really, there might not ever be a right time. He had wanted Mizuki to quit, but he never imagined that something like this would happen.

After the firefighter left to go inspect the house once more Mizuki let out a small groan, reaching up with his free arm to scratch at his head. When he spoke his voice reflected the tired expression on his face, and even though he smiled it seemed tense, fake.

"Guess this means I can’t have you over for a while."

"Mizuki, you can—"

"Oh!" His voice suddenly perked up, and he made a motioning over to where they were standing. “Koujaku’s finally here."

Earlier Aoba had called Koujaku, and after explaining the situation through many pauses, managed to convince him to bring over some change of clothes. Now that Koujaku was here the tension in the air seemed to have disappeared somewhat, but Aoba still was upset he hadn’t managed to say anything.

As they walked over to meet Koujaku, Aoba noticed a tight expression on Mizuki’s face. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, but when he caught Aoba staring he simply smiled before turning away and greeting Koujaku.

He had an idea what Mizuki was thinking, but right now the promise of a warm set of clothes was much more attention catching.

…

"Ahaha, a-and then you know what he said? This idiot… this idiot said—"

"Aoba, I think you can stop now." Chuckling nervously, Mizuki avoided the other’s grabby hand as he pulled the glass away from him. Owning a bar meant spending a lot of time said bar, and having a boyfriend who was a light weight meant more times than naught having to watch him and make sure he didn’t go over three drinks.

"But Mizuki..! I was gettin’ to the best part…"

This time when he laughed it was more at Aoba’s childish behavior than anything. “You said that every other sentence. Give Koujaku a break. He was there, I’m sure he remembers perfectly fine."

"It’s funner to tell the story though!"

"Tch, what am I going to do with you?" Sighing now Mizuki set the glass Aoba had been drinking from down on the other side of the bar. Cleaning up a few things he then dropped the towel on the counter and returned to Aoba’s side, watching as he still tried to continue the story though he was slipping over his words now.

There was only one thing that made Aoba sober up—even if only slightly—instantly. Leaning down, Mizuki waited until the other paused for a breath, and kissed him.

It lasted for a few seconds, and when he finally pulled away he was met with Aoba’s stare and Koujaku’s awkward chuckling.

"…You taste good."

"And you say that every time." Mentally he apologized to Koujaku. The poor man had to deal with this almost every week, and no matter how long he and Aoba have been together it still felt awkward between the three of them.

It was time to close up now, and Mizuki wrapped his arm around Aoba’s waist and hoisted him up out of the seat. With Koujaku behind them they exited the bar, Mizuki locking it up afterwards.

Saying their goodbyes, Koujaku went one way while the two of them went the other. How many times had he done this now? He really should stop letting Aoba drink while visiting him. It always resulted in something either entertaining or strange, typically the latter.

Lost in his thoughts, Mizuki hadn’t realized Aoba was saying something until he caught his name. “What did you say?"

"I said you taste good. Idiot, listen to me."

"Yeah yeah. I’m glad I taste so good, wish I could say the same for you."

"You don’t taste like smoke or ash anymore."

"Weren’t you just trying to tell Koujaku that story? I don’t see why, it’s so…”

At that Aoba paused his steps, looking up at Mizuki with a shocked expression. “You quit smoking? Really?"

"Really."

"I knew it!" Cheerful mood restored Aoba clung to his arm, attempting to drag and hurry him forward. “This calls for a celebration when we get home."

Aoba’s enthusiasm, drunken as it was, was contagious, and Mizuki soon found himself grinning.

"The only thing waiting for you when we get home is a nap."

Anymore of Aoba’s protests or rambles were lost in the background, and his mind wandered once more.

He had known Aoba for 10 years now. 6 of those were spent as friends, and 4 were spent as lovers. He’d been smoking for 8 years, and now had been clean for two years. The process had been hard on the both of them, but for once he managed not to relapse, and with Aoba’s help kicked that nasty habit he had grown so accustomed to.

Mizuki was happy he stopped smoking, because now whenever they kissed Aoba seemed to enjoy it more, and unlike before he didn’t shrink away when tongue was added. His health had already begun to improve along with his mood. Overall, everything about quitting had been for the better, and he had no regrets.

Well, except maybe for one.

As entertaining as listening to Aoba recite the story was; the fact it took his house burning halfway down and standing in the middle of the street practically nude to make him quit was… embarrassing, to say the least.

Even so, looking down at Aoba clinging to his arm happily now made everything worth it.

“…Mizuki?”

“Yeah, Aoba?”

“You really do taste good. No more of that smoking shit. Promise?”

Aoba’s declaration and tone had taken him by surprised, but when he replied he found himself grinning widely, grip on the other’s waist tightening.

“Promise. No more nasty, smoky kisses.” 


End file.
